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DISCOURSE 



OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH 



OF 



Hon. DAIIEL ¥EBSTEE, 



PREACHED 



October 31, and repeated November 14, 1852. 



i- 



BT 



E. L. CLEAVELAND, 
Pastor of the Third Congregational Church, New Haven. 






NEW HAVEN: 

PRINTED I! V B . I,. II A M L E N, 
Printer in Ynio College. 

1852. 



^ 

G^N 



New Haven, Nov. 19, 1852. 
Eev. E. L. Cleavelaxd, 

Dear Sir — We heard witli great pleasure your Discourse on the death 

of Daniel Webster ; and believing the principles and sentiments therein 

advanced are of vital importance to the welfare of our beloved Union, 

■we would respectfully request a copy for publication. 

Truly yours, 

L. Candee. 

James Donaghe. 

W. Hooker. 

H. Trowbridge. 

E. H. Trowbridge, 

J. Nicholson. 



DISCOURSE. 



Jer. xlviii, IT. — "All ye that are about him bemoan him; and all 

YE TH.A.T KNOW HIS KAME, SAY, IIoW IS THE STRONG STAFF BROKEN, 
AND THE BEAUTIFUL ROD !" 

The word and providence of God are but different 
chapters in the same great volume, mutually explaining 
and enforcing each other. Rightly to understand either, 
we must study them both. To be unmindful of the im- 
portant events which are transpiring under the government 
of God, is to be unmindful of God himself. In his more 
remarkable providences you see his hand, you hear his 
voice. God himself appears as the preacher and super- 
sedes all other agency by his own majestic utterance. 
When God thus speaks, how becoming is it in us to give 
ear! Especially when he speaks in the ministration of 
death. Often as he passes before us in the exercise of 
this dread prerogative, he never does it without laying a 
new emphasis on his word, and enforcing the claims of his 
sovereignty. Death indeed, is a most familiar event, and 
seldon:> does it compel more than a passing regard. Yet 
is it always the same momentous change ; never is it less 
than the voice of God, uttered in tones of impressive so- 
lemnity. Wherever, however, or on whomsoever it is ex- 
ecuted, it speaks of judgment and eternity, and that, 
whether men will hear or forbear. 

But although death is the common lot of all, involving 
in every case, consequences of infinite moment, yet to the 
living it is more instructive in some instances than in others. 
It may be invested with circumstances which give it a 



peculiar significance and importance. All deaths do not 
affect us alike, nor was it designed they should ; the death 
of a stranger is not the same thing to us, as that of a dear 
friend. The community is more deeply afflicted by the 
decease of an enterprising capitalist, whose large invest- 
ments, generous spirit, and untiring energy furnished the 
means of support to scores of families and hundreds of in- 
dividuals, than it would be, had he been a poor man. In 
gathering therefore, the lessons to be derived by the living 
from the demise of any person, besides those elements 
which are common to every instance of dissolution, we 
must consider the character, position and general relations 
which distinguish one man from another. The moral im- 
port of one man's death as compared with that of another, 
will depend upon his antecedents. We look to his history, 
to the nature and extent of his influence in life, if we would 
estimate our loss. It may be that some can see nothing in 
such a course but a disposition to honor men according to 
their worldly greatness and not according to their intrinsic 
worth. But it has no necessary connexion with such a 
spirit. It is merely an attempt to form an estimate of the 
contents of the event by the facts as they are ; to ascertain 
what God means to teach us, by what he has done: if he 
has taken an infant child from the family, — to weigh its full, 
sad import ; if he has removed the head and only tempo- 
ral support of the family, — to take the guage and dimen- 
sions of iliut sore bereavement. But surely it is no -dispar- 
agement to the departed infant, and no flattery to the de- 
ceased lather, if tlie death which plunges the helpless 
widow and orj)hans into the miseries of a relentless pov- 
erty, throws a darker shadow, anil imi">resses more and 
weiirhtier lessons, on their bereaved hearts, than the death 
of the little one. Apart then from any honors offered to 
the dead, and apart from any incense offered to the pride 
of the livim:^, our own highest interests demand that every 
death should be estimated not only by that which is es- 



sential to its nature, but also by those circumstances which 
distinguish the departure of one riian from that of another. 

Death >s clothed with peculiar emphasis, and demands 
especial attention, when he strikes his dart at the high 
places of power. When a Prince or a President is laid 
low, a whole nation is summoned to mourning. Not to 
give reverent heed to such an event would be to traverse 
the very design of God, who takes this method to arrest 
the current of worldliness and draw the thoughts of man- 
kind to himself. When Saul and Jonathan fell in the bat- 
tle of Gilboa, David, regarding it as a signal occasion for 
serious reflection and religious commemoration, set up a 
perpetual memorial in that exquisite song, "The beauty of 
Israel is slain in thy high places: how are the mighty fal- 
len !" And so at the destruction of Moab, personified in 
their king, the prophet in my text, calls to a general 
mourning over the mighty catastrophe : "All ye that are 
about him bemoan him ; and all ye that know his name, 
say, How is the strong staff broken, and the beautiful rod !" 

But there is an empire of mind, far more august, and 
far more influential than any empire of physical force. And 
that empire has its princes, its potentates, its high and 
mighty rulers, clothed with more than regal majesty, and 
invested with a more than imperial scepter. When a mind 
that has long reigned in the realm of intellect, that has 
long given character and direction to the current-thought 
of the age, whose great ideas have become interwoven 
with the mental and moral life of a nation, on whose sa- 
gacity and power, depend, in no small measure, the pres- 
ent and future interests of a mighty people; when such a 
mind passes away from these earthly scenes, an event 
transpires which may well arrest universal .attention, and 
brinii; the whole civilized world to a solemn and mournful 
pause. Princes and Presidents can be, as they often have 
been, made out of very common materials, and when they 
are removed, it is not always a difficult matter to fill their 



6 

places : but when a profound and original thinker, a wise 
and far-seeing statesman, an eloquent and commanding or- 
ator, ceases from among men, the loss may be iiTeparable, 
there may be no survivor to supply his place. 

Such is the calamity that has now befallen the American 
people. A great and mighty mind has passed away from 
earth ; " the foremost man" of this nation, if not of the 
world, is numbered with the dead. He whose wisdom 
has so long been felt in our public counsels, whose elo- 
quence has so often thrilled the hearts of his countrymen, 
and whose sublime genius has for so many years been the 
admiration of the world, has disappeared forever from that 
august theater, on which but yesterday he was a most 
conspicuous actor. The death of Mr. Webster is not an 
event to be passed over in silence ; it ought not to be, and 
cannot be. The nation cannot lose its noblest son, with- 
out knowing and lamenting the bereavement; the world 
cannot part with so great a light, without a mournful con- 
sciousness of the loss. We must lay it to heart, we clo ; 
not so much from a sense of duty, as from an impulse of 
necessity. This event has sent a mountain wave of sor- 
row over the land, which is still rolling westward, to break 
ere long on the Pacific coast. And while our cities are 
clothed in sackcloth, and all men are touched with sadness 
as under a heavy national altliction, shall the pulpit alone 
be silent and indillerent ? Has it no words of comfort, in- 
struction or admonition to oiler? Surel\ it t)clonii;s to the 
ministers of religion to interpret the moral import of this 
event and gather up its more significant lessons for gene- 
ral edification. 

It is not my purpose, as it is ncit my province, to sketch 
the life, or attempt a full estimate of the character of the 
late Secretary of State. 'J'liis h;is been, aiul will be done 
in places more appropriate, aiul by persons more compe- 
tent to the diHicult tasL My tluty is of another kind ; I 
am to contemplate the death of liiis great man, as a provi- 



dential event, frauglit with weighty instruction to the living. 
I am to inquire w hut lessons of wisdom it teaches us — what 
benefits we may derive from it as individuals and as a na- 
tion. And what I have to say of him or of his history, will 
be subservient to this practical end. 

In pursuance of my object, it may be well to contem- 
plate for a moment the natui'e and extent of this national 
bereavement. The occasion which calls us to mourning 
is a most extraordinary one ; it is such as can occur only 
at wide intervals of time. No death, since that of Wash- 
ington, has produced a sensation so extensive and pro- 
found ; and we may look far back into the ages, before 
we shall find another intellect in all respects the equal of 
his whose death w-e deplore ; and ages to come may 
elapse ere the world will see his like again. Few genera- 
tions since the race began, have been called to resign a 
treasure so rare and rich, as that which this nation has just 
committed to the grave. We have lost great men before ; 
men who were great in some one branch of attainment ; 
but when has there ever a man gone from us who had 
achieved greatness in so many and such diverse depart- 
ments of power? We have had profound lawyers, able 
statesmen, eloquent orators, and accomplished scholars. 
And it is usually considered honor enough to win distinc- 
tion in any one of these professions; but Mr. Webster 
united all of them in himself; he was eminent in them 
all. He stood at the head of the American Bar; he was 
the first of American statesmen ; and he had no supe- 
rior among American orators. Certainly there is no man 
left on either side of the Atlantic, in whom are mingled so 
many elements of power. Taken in parts, this or that 
attribute may be matched or even excelled ; but taken as 
a whole, where will you find his equal? The granite 
foundation of native common sense which supported the 
magnificent superstructure, and directed his powers to wise 
and practicable ends ; the massive and rugged strength of 



8 

his intellect ; the transparent clearness of his reasoning ; 
the heavy and resistless tread of his argument ; his relent- 
less lo2:ic : his inevitable conclusions ; his courteous and 
lofty bearing, his impressive dignity and force as he rose 
with his subject; the vast sweep of his thoughts over the 
field of discussion ; the sustained and steady wing, and 
sublime momentum with which he bore himself gracefully 
but unerringly and fatally upon the object of his attack ; 
the classic elegance of his diction ; his chaste but rich 
imagination ; and withal, the majesty of his person, fit 
temple for his imperial mind ; the flexible play and power 
of his deep, but finely toned voice ; the strange spell of an 

eye, formed 

" To threaten or command" — 

the solemn grandeur, in fine, of that more than regal front, 

" The great soul's apparent seat." 
" A combination and a form indeed, 
"Where every [power] did seem to set [its] seal, 
To give the world assurance of a man :" — 

— add to this, the sound and just principles, the generous 
and undying patriotism, to which all these exalted faculties 
were unalterably consecrated, and you have a union and 
concentration of great qualities such as God takes centu- 
ries to produce. It has not fallen to the lot of every gen- 
eration, nor of every age to possess such an intellectual 
colossus. In this respect we have enjoyed and lost, one 
of God's noblest and rarest gifts. 

JN^ow we are to bear in mind that this gigantic intellect, 
with all its growing resources and accumulating experi- 
ence, had been employed for forty years on the jurispru- 
dence, the legislation, and the diplomacy of the country. 
For thirty -three years, Mr. Wi-bster had been ainjost 
constantly in public life, either as a member of Congress 
or of the Cabinet. During that period he had impressed 
his genius upon the laws of the land and upon the laws of 
nations ; and more broadly and indelibly still, on the minds 



and hearts of his countrymen. Time alone can measure 
the service he has rendered, or decide how much longer 
the Union will stand, than it would have done, had it not 
been for his triumphant and far-famed defense of the Con- 
stitution ; his intlnence on the legislative councils, and his 
skill and sagacity in settling questions of international 
policy, which had long baffled negotiation, and were fast 
assuming a threatening aspect. He had come to be re- 
garded as a mighty pillar of the State — central, massive, 
towering ; gracefully bearing upon his Altantean shoulders 
the glorious fabric of our beloved Union. And what 
American did not feel that the interests and the honor of 
the nation were safe in his hands ? What American did 
not feel a conscious security and an honest pride in having 
such a man at the helm of government? Even "Europe," 
it has been truly said, " had come to see in his life a guar- 
anty for justice, for peace, for the best hopes of civiliza- 
tion." And yet he owed this foreign confidence to no be- 
trayal of his country's rights ; he was every inch an Ameri- 
can. He loved his native land with true filial devotion ; he 
loved its soil, its scenery, its institutions and its people; its 
past glories and its coming grandeur; he loved it all; to him 
it was one country, one people. In his own expressive lan- 
guage, he 'knew no North, no South, no East, no West.' 
He was eminently, I had almost said, preeminently national 
in his spirit and general policy. No public man of his 
time was more free from sectional jealousy, and party lit- 
tleness. Nor will any one now rise up to question the 
purity or generosity of his patriotism. Himself the most 
gigantic growth of his country's institutions, he joyfully 
consecrated to that country all that she had made him — 
giving to her the entire service of his life, and when life 
was ended, bequeathing to her the g+ory of his deathless 
name. 

From these imperfect hints — (I dare attempt no com- 
prehensive description of the man) — we may gather some 



10 

idea of our loss, and judge whether we have not some- 
thing to learn from an event which has made us a nation 
of mourners. What then, are the lessons which Divine 
Providence is teaching us by this solemn dispensation ? 
Without attempting to notice them all, I will select a few 
of the more impoitant. 

1. I'he death of Mr. Webster is an impressive rebuke 
to the violence of party spirit. 

There is something significant in the time of its occur- 
rence. On the eve of a great national election, amid the 
heat and commotion of an excited political canvass, when 
the whole mind and heart of the country is gathering to a 
focus of intensest feeling as the day of decision draws 
near which is to raise one of these competitors to the 
highest oflicial station in the world ; at this critical moment 
the foremost man of this republic, is smitten down ! ^\'hat 
a comment on the uncertainty and vanity of all mere tem- 
poral interests ! He who had so long been associated in 
the public mind with questions and scenes like these ; 
whose powerful voice has so often been heard on such 
occasions, whose elevation to the presidency has so long 
been the fond desire of multitudes, not a few of whom 
adhered to him even to the last ; he who was in fact a 
candidate for that high honor, at the present canvass, now 
lies a tenant of the silent tomb ! And does not the death 
of such a man, occurring at such a moment, ailminisicr a 
solemn admonition to the intolerance of party spirit, to the 
fierceness of political strife? Does it not sav to the ravins 
elements, "Peace, be still?" Upon all the pursuits of 
earthly ambition, upon all the trappings of temporal power 
and glory, does it not pronounce with signal emj>hasis, 
"Vanity of vanities?" And will men still rush on as 
blindly, as madly, •M\cv a prize that is so liable at all limes 
to be snatched from their grasp? Will thev learn from 
this calamity to jiut no restraint upon (heir passions, no 
regulating hand upon their measures ? Will they not tern- 



11 

per the present conflict with a spirit of moderation and 
forbearance, which, while it leaves ever}' man to act ac- 
cording to his convictions of dut}', softens the asperities of 
political waifare, and which, repressing on the one hand, 
the insolence of victory, assuages on the other, the mortifi- 
cation of defeat? It did seem a few days ago, as if no 
event could arrest the public attention, or turn aside the 
powerful current of feeling then rushing on to the point of 
confluence. But God has found means to do this very 
thing ; a voice has spoken which is heard above the roar 
of popular clamor and commotion. A new thing has come 
to pass ; a whole people, on the eve of an all-engrossing, 
all-exciting election, is suddenly diverted from the great 
question of the hour, and thrown into mourning by the 
death of a single man — and he, not a president ; not a 
prominent candidate for president; not standing in the 
way of either of the great parties; yet was he the only 
man whose death could have produced such an effect — 

" Between the pas* and fell-incensed points 
Of [these] mighty opposites," 

a power was interposed before which both parties fell back 
in awe, and forgetting their strife, gave way to grief over 
the fallen object of their common veneration. Then was 
it that other thoughts than those of political life, were sug- 
gested to the mind ; other interests than those of earth 
were pressed upon the attention ; other scenes than those 
of time rose on the view ; other objects than those of 
selfish ambition, were presented to the eye. For a mo- 
ment, there was a sense of this world's emptiness, and a 
glance at the vastness and inconceivable superiority of the 
world to come ; visions of the soul in its future state, vis- 
ions of God, of judgment and eternity, were flitting before 
men's minds, and a shade passed over the glories of earth. 
O could those influences but remain and humble the pride, 
and subdue the selfishness, and purify the motives, and 



12 

elevate the aims of these living, beating hearts, so capa- 
cious of sin or holiness, of misery or happiness, what a 
blessed transformation would be witnessed on the face of 
society, and on the affairs of government ! 

2. The providential dispensation which ice now deplore, 
is fitted to awaken solicitude in respect to the national 
icelfare. 

It is not the least among the evils of party politics that 
they often blind us to the real value of our great states- 
men. We associate these men with the heats, animosities, 
and ambitious schemes of partisan warfare, and we forget 
that over and above what is done for their respective par- 
ties as such, they do render a vast amount of important 
service to the country. True, they are not perfect, they 
are not free from selfish and ambitious aims, but this is 
only saying that they are 7nen ; and after all, the service 
they perform may be just as valuable to the country as if 
they had no private ends whatever. They are the ministers 
of God for good, independently of their motives. What 
they think in iheir heart, what their ulterior aims may be, 
is a matter between them and their Maker; but what ac- 
tual service they render belongs to us and our chililren. 
And owing to the cause just mentioned, we are greatly 
liable to underrate that service. By their great wisdom 
and power they have saved the nation from threatening dan- 
gers, not once nor twice — by their leai-ning and sagacity 
they have built up the goodly fabric of jurisprutlence and 
constitutional government, under which twenty-live mil- 
lions of pc()pk> repose in peaceful prosperity. \\\ ilioir 
judicious counsels and wise ail ministrations, they have 
held in check many y\\A\ ami pernicious movements, many 
sul)tl(\ but fatal elciuciits w hich endangered the stability 
of our in<^titutions, and generally they have tasked their 
exalted faculties to give a iiealthful development to the un- 
calculated energies of this mighty nation. 



13 

Such was Mr. Webster: so long had he given the 
strength of his transcenclant intellect to the public aftairs 
of the country — so identified was he with the national 
councils — so commanding was his influence, whether in 
the majority or not — to such an extraordinary degree 
did he impress his own ideas on the legislation of the 
country, that the history of the man must be the history 
of the government during the period in {[uestion. As a 
Secretary of State the connexion was still more intimate 
and vital. What he accomplished during his two short 
terms of service in that department, has saved us from 
war with Great Britain, has established most important 
principles of international law, and opened a new era in 
diplomacy. Now is it possible that an inlluence so long 
continued, so wise and safe and powerful, should suddenly 
be removed from us, no more to guide, defend and control, 
without exciting in our minds a sense of danger? When 
we acknowledge that the greatest man and one of the 
purest patriots of the age has been taken away, and that 
his place is not likely to be made good for years, if for 
generations to come, must we not confess to a secret mis- 
giving as to the effect of such a loss? Can we afford to 
spare so much wisdom and power from our national coun- 
cils? When darkness and perplexity troubled the minds 
of men, how instinctively our eyes turned to Webster 
for light. And when an attempt was made to foment sec- 
tional jealousies, by a concerted attack upon New England, 
the heaviest fire of which was discharged upon the person 
of her distinguished representative, well do we remember 
with what impatience, yet assured confidence, we waited 
for the vindication of our dishonored name at the hands of 
one whose competence to the task was better known to 
us than to his assailants. And never will the nation, 
never will the world forget how that task was performed — 
how, with eye unabashed, and heart undismayed, he re- 
ceived the combined assault — with what impressive dig- 



14 

nity he advanced to the defense — with what Titanic 
strength he overthrew the positions of its opponents, shat- 
teriniJ: and scatterinnr their forces as if a hail-storm had 
swept the field. And how, with noble magnanimity, in- 
stead of pursuing his advantage by changing the seat of 
the war, he raised on the ruins of. this demolished arma- 
ment, a plea for the Union, which stands to this day the 
proudest monument of his own fame and the strongest pil- 
lar of the national edifice — and which, should that edifice 
ever crumble to ruins, will still remain, towering aloft in 
solitary grandeur and beauty, to mark the spot whei-e the 
temple of American liberty once stood. 

But he is gone. And whatever perils may come here- 
after, there is no one man to whom the whole nation would 
instinctively turn for the defense of its rights. Who then 
will say, that in the death of Mr. Webster, we have lost 
no strenij:th and incurred no danger? 

It is worthy of remark too, that the standing and moral 
power of a nation among other nations, is due very much 
to the reputation of her great men. The glory of Greece 
and Rome, consisted in the world-wide renown of their 
philosophers and statesmen, their poets and military he- 
roes. And when a nation begins to decline in illustrious 
men, she loses an element of power, which nothing else 
can supplv. It is an impressive fact that within three years 
we have lost three of our most eniinent statesmen. Cal- 
houn, Clay, and Webster. History scarcely furnishes 
a parallel of thi-ee men endowed with such extraordinary 
yet diverse powers of mind — commencing public life so 
near toi^ether — movinir so constantiv on the same aui2just 
theater — often opponents, and achieving their highest hon- 
ors in conllicl with each other, as if unable to find else- 
where antagonists who couhl draw out their whole force; 
continuing their \m\)\\c labors to the end of life, and falling 
at last on the high places of the field, with all their armor 
on. Loniif before their number was broken, they were the 



15 

pride and boast of the whole nation ; they were known as 
the "Three Mighties" of our American chieftains. And 
a sad day it was, when the first of their number was borne 
away from the scene of his senatorial renown. Still, we 
comforted ourselves that Clay and Webster remained. 
And when at length the great orator of the West had been 
carried in funereal pomp through the land, all eyes, all 
hearts turned fondly, and with augmented reverence to the 
last and mightiest of the Three. We took consolation from 
the thought, that Webster still lived ; and ardent was the 
desire, and fervent the prayer that he might continue to 
live for many a year to come, the defense and the pride of 
his native land. Already he had become an historical 
character, and his fame, a national posession. Too great 
to be the exclusive property of any one party, he was 
proudly claimed by every American, abroad, if not at home, 
as his country's most illustrious son. And as the frosts of 
time and the rich lights of a long and eventful experience 
were gathering a ripe and mellow radiance upon that ma- 
jestic head, while the shadows of an approaching eternity 
were settling in deeper lines on that solemn countenance, 
we watched the change with reverential awe, and clung to 
him the more fondly, as we saw how soon we must behold 
his face no more. And now he too has followed his great 
compatriots. W^e have been compelled at last to resign 
him to the claims of death. And as the eye travels slowly 
up to that intellectual eminence where he reigned so long 
and so gloriously, it discovers but a vacant throne, which 
no man on earth can fill, and which is likely to remain, a 
monument to the greatness of the departed, and to the 
inferiority of the survivors. 

Never was there a more impressive illustration of the 
effect of death in suddenly revealing the real value of a 
great man. Highly as Mr. Webster was appreciated, it 
took us by surprise to find on his decease how much we 
had yet to learn of his actual greatness. We knew not 



16 

how wide a space he filled in the public eye, until we saw 
the void occasioned by his removal. It could not but be 
so. It is scarcely possible to form an adequate estimate of 
such a man when living. To say nothing of party ani- 
mosity which blinds so many to the excellences of an oppo- 
nent, and which generates so many foul slanders to defraud 
him of his good name ; leaving this out of view, there is a 
difficultv in takinii; the real altitude of a 2:reat man while 
he is yet with us. We are too familiar with his presence ; 
his influence, though powerful and manifold, falls upon us 
so constantly and so insensibly, that we fail to observe it. 
It is not when walking in the light of the sun that we get 
the most vivid conception of our dependence on his beams, 
but when some eclipse or mysterious day of darkness hides 
him from our view. Long had we been accustomed to 
lift our eyes to this majestic column standing in our na- 
tional temple, but we knew not its girth, its height, the 
space it occupied, or the weight it supported, until it fell; 
and the thundering shock, and the mighty void, and the 
bending roof, revealed as in an instant the irreparable loss. 
We know that governments precede a declaration of war, 
by the re-call of ambassadors. Is it because God is about 
to change his face towards us, that he has taken away our 
three greatest men? If a day of trouble is coming, then 
why is it that before the battle begins, we have lost our 
ablest champions ? If you point to our national greatness 
and prosperity, as enough to silence these fears, I reply 
that the Israelite of Solomon's time might have drawn the 
same inference from the unexampled stability and glory of 
the kingdom at that period — yet the reign of Solomon 
proved to be the grand climacteiic of the Israelitish nation. 
From that culminating point of their power, they fell into 
insignificant and belligerent fragments, which gradually 
declined until they became extinct. The nation never saw 
another Solomon. He was the last and highest result of 
the civilization of his age. In the tropics there is a tree 



17 

which yields nothing but a tuft of leaves at its top, until 
fifty years of age, when it gives birth to one gigantic, 
glorious flower, and then dies. It mmj he that this illus- 
trious triad of statesmen who have now sone to their craves, 
constitute that gigantic growth which our country has 
been struggling for a century to produce: and that having 
achieved the wonder, she will repeat it no more, but give 
place to an age of decline, both of men and deeds. Our 
physical resources may be undiminished — we may be great 
in. numbers and wealth, but deficient in great and illustrious 
rulers and citizens. God may be preparing to punish us 
as he threatened to punish the Jews. "Behold the Lord 
doth take away from Jerusalem and Judah, the stay and 
the staff, the whole stay of bread, and the whole staft' of 
water, the mighty man, and the man of war, the ji^dge and 
the prophet, and the prudent and the ancient, the honor- 
able man and the counsellor, and the eloquent orator; and 
I will give children to be their princes, and babes shall rule 
over them, and the people shall be oppressed, every one by 
another, and every one by his neighbor: the child shall 
behave proudly against the ancient, and the base against 
the honorable." Should God ever leave this nation to such 
a fate — should a time ever come when the land, sterile 
of great souls, should be given up to men of moderate 
minds, of little reason, but of great passions — when a head- 
less, heartless multitude, left to the dark promptings of their 
baser nature, and no longer able to discern the path of 
wisdom, of ri2;ht and of safety, shall make to themselves 
rulers who will unscrupulously gratify their evil desires and 
obey their imperious will— when servility of spirit shall be 
regarded as a better qualification for office than intellectual 
strength, profound sagacity, sound principles and large ex- 
perience—then, in the misrule and oppression, the con- 
fusion and anarchy of that dismal period, will it be seen what 
a precious boon God confers upon a nation when he gives 
them a leader of consummate ability for government, whom 

3 



18 

they are willing and proud to follow. And it will also be 
seen what a calamity is the removal of such a man. But 
this very thing God has begun to do. He has taken away 
"the mighty man," "the prudent and the ancient," "the 
honorable man, and the counsellor, and the eloquent 
orator" — and if he does not go on to give us "children for 
our princes, and babes to rule over us," it must be because 
his people, alarmed by these judgments, are enabled to 
prevail with him by prayer to lighten his hand. Here is 
our only hope — God may yet be entreated for our country. 
Let Christian patriots intercede with him not to forsake us 
utterly, nor cause his faithfulness wholly to fail. Let us in- 
voke upon our land a rain of righteousness, that heavenly 
gift which more than any other, supplies every loss, and 
without which nothing, not even great men, can save us. 

3. The event of which ice speak, is one of interest to the 
cause of Christianity. 

It is the shameless boast of infidels that none but weak 
and inferior minds can be satisfied with the argument for 
Christianity. And many are the dupes of this arrogant 
falsehood. In refutation of this miserable charire, we are 
happy to give the great name of Daniel Webster — a 
name which the bitterest enemies of Christianity must re- 
spect. Had he been an infidel, how would the fact have 
been emblazoned to the injury of the Gospel ! And how 
baleful would have been his inlluence on multitudes of 
men ! But God was pleased to spare us such a calamity ; 
and we are permitted to know that his powerful mind never 
was ensnared by the sophistries of intideliiy. His child- 
hood was nurtured under the inlluence of Christianity — the 
Assemblv's Catechism formed a leadiuii; element of his edu- 
cation. And he never was known, I believe, to deny the 
great doctrines of the Gospel. The instructions of the 
nursery were deliberately endorsed by the mature judg- 
ment of the jurist ami the statesman. So lar was he from 
being a skeptic, that he w'as not even a speculator on re- 



19 

ligious subjects — his convictions were too strong and fixed 
to admit of speculation — divine truths seemed to rise up 
before him like the great mountains, resting immoveably on 
everlasting foundations, and throwing their vast forms in 
clear, bold, rigid outline against the sky — and whenever he 
spoke of them, it was as if he felt their awful shadows. 
Never shall I forget the impressive solemnity of counte- 
nance and voice with which he uttered the peroration of 
his celebrated argument at the trial of the Knapps for the 
murder of Mr. White. "A sense of duty," said Mr. 
Webster on that occasion, "pursues us ever. It is omni- 
present like the Deity. If we take to ourselves the wings 
of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the seas, 
duty performed, or duty violated, is still with us, for our 
happiness, or our misery. If we say the darkness shall 
cover us, in the darkness as in the light, our obligations are 
yet with us. We cannot escape their power, nor fly from 
their presence. They are with us in this life, will be with 
us at its close ; and in that scene of inconceivable solemnity, 
which lies yet farther onward, we shall still find ourselves 
surrounded by the consciousness of duty, to pain us wher- 
ever it has been violated, and (o console us so far as God 
may have given us grace to perform it." This serious cast 
of thought was a prominent characteristic of Mr. Webster's 
mind. It continually manifests itself in his speeches and 
writings — he seemed to be in habitual contact with religious 
truth, and hence his allusions to it were easy and natural. 
To say the very least, the Christian system had become 
necessary to meet thcdemands of his intellect, and to main- 
tain the equipoise of all his faculties. Such a mind as his, 
could not rest in the low and narrow conclusions of infi- 
delity — it must needs overlap the boundaries of time and 
stretch on towards the infinite — it must needs go out of 
itself and out of this visible scene to find the complement 
of its being, and an appropriate theater for its agency. His 
superior mental stature, while it enlarged his horizon, 



20 

showed him how mean a thing is man when separated from 
his ]\Iaker. " Religion," said Mr. Webster, standing on that 
intellectual summit, and looking down the vista of eternity, 
"religion is a necessary and indispensable element in any 
great human character. There is no living without it. 
Religion is the tie that connects man with his Creator, and 
holds him to his throne. If that tie be sundered or broken, 
he floats away a worthless atom in the universe, its proper 
attraction all gone, its destinies and its whole future, nothing 
but darkness, desolation and despair. A man with no 
sense of religious duty, is he whom the scriptures de- 
scribe in such terse and terrific language, as 'living with- 
out God and without hope in the world.' Such a man is 
out of his proper being, out of the circle of all his duties, 
out of the circle of all his happiness ; away, far, far away 
from the purposes of his creation. A man, a true man, with 
all his proper sentiments and sensibilities alive in him, in 
this state of existence, must have something to believe, and 
something to hope for, or else, as life is advancing to its 
close, all is heart-sinking and oppression." 

To those who aflect to sneer at personal piety as the 
superstition of weak and deluded minds, I commend this 
noble testimony. Whether its gifted author was himself an 
illustration of his own principles, is not now the question. 
Here is his deliberate Jiidgmcht that religion, so far from 
being unworthy of oui- belief, is "an indispensable element 
to any great human character," — that without it man is 
mean, miserable, lost — that it is not a thing beneath us, but 
soaring high above us — not a mere decency or decoration, 
to be acceplcil or rejected accoiiling to our taste, but an 
affair of such imj)eralive necessity that "there is no living 
williout it." iSor did he mean by religion, a cold, general- 
izing philosopliv, or a vague and \apid sentimentalism which 
reaches no man's conscience and benefits no man's heart. 
*' If clergymen in our days," said he on a recent occasion, 
" would return to the simplicity of the Gospel, and preach 



21 

more to individuals, and less to the crowd, there would not 
be so much complaint of the decline of true religion. Many 
of the ministers of the present day take their text from St. 
Paul and preach from the newspapers. When they do so, 
I prefer to enjoy my own thoughts rather than to listen. I 
want my pastor to come to me in the spirit of the Gospel, 
saying, 'you are mortal! your probation is brief — your work 
must be done speedily. You are immortal, too, you are 
hastenins: to the bar of God ; the Jud2;e standeth before 
the door!' When I am thus admoni>hed, I have no dis- 
position to muse or to sleep." On another occasion Mr. 
Webster said to his pastor at Marshfield, " when I attend 
upon the preaching of the Gospel, I wish to have it made 
a personal matter — a personal matter." Now when we see 
such a mind as ]\fr. Webster's yielding a full, unhesita- 
ting and steadfast assent to the great truths of Christianity — 
when we hear him insisting on practical piety as necessary 
to a high character, a happy life, a peaceful death, and a 
glorious immortality, we feel that it is answer enough to 
the infidel's malignant sneer, that no great and philosophic 
mind can yield its convictions to the claims of Christianity. 
We offset his insulting imputation with this weighty ex- 
ample. 

4. The mournful event ice are considering teaches us the 
emptiness of all mere human glory. 

Few men ever had more of the admiration, the almost 
adoration, which is given to transcendant genius, than Mr. 
Webster. No physical power could build such a throne 
as that on which he reigned — no wealth could fashion such 
a crown as that which encircled his princely head — no po- 
sition, no ofllce on earth could have added anything to his 
greatness. He held a rank not dependent on the popular 
vote, and swayed a sceptre which no change of parties 
could wrench from his hand. His place was in the con- 
stellation of " ever-during men." From the hour his sun 
rose^ jt attracted the gaze, first of his native State, then of 



22 

New England, then of the nation, and finally of the whole 
world. And never for one moment was that gaze taken 
off — it followed his every movement, it watched his every 
act, it suffered nothing to escape unnoticed — it grew more 
absorbing, more intense, as he moved sublimely on in his 
orbit — " in wonder it began, in wonder it ended, and ad- 
miration filled up the interspace." And when at last this 
resplendent luminary was seen touching the horizon, the 
whole nation, as if suddenlv conscious that a irreal li2;ht 
was about to pass away, awaited in awful suspense as it 
slowly but steadily sunk from the view of mortals. And 
still, all eyes are turned fondly and mournfully to the linger- 
ing glory which marks the spot where his sun went down. 
If there were anything in the enthusiastic admiration of 
millions — in the eager crowds that every where followed 
him and hung upon his lips — in the applause of enraptured 
senates, in the ovations of cities, in the homage of the civil- 
ized world : if there were anything in the proudest triumphs 
of argument, oratory and statesmanship — any thing in the 
consciousness that in all future ages he would take rank 
with Burke and Chatham, and Cicero and Demosthenes — 
if in all this there were elements that could satisfy his great 
soul, then Webster must have been the happiest of mor- 
tals. But while he was doubtless fully sensible of the value 
of a good and a great name, it does not appear that he 
looked chiefly to these honors for happiness. On the con- 
trary, he remarked to a clergyman in Boston, soon after 
his recent nomination for the Presidency, that " he would 
most gladly resign all competition for otlice — all earthly 
honors, for an assurance that his salvation was secure." 
And in that last sublime scene, when the d} ing statesman 
had most need of whatever support he could find, we do 
not learn that he once turned for consolation to his public 
service, his distinguished reputation. Not a word is re- 
ported from him indicating a self-righteous reliance upon 
duties done, or any particular satisfaction in the deathless 



23 

fame he had achieved. PJis desire for a private burial, with 
no other than the accustomed service of the village pastor, 
indicates rather, that of earthly honors he had had enough ; 
that his soul turned from them with loathing. Far other 
thoughts occupied his mind in that solemn hour — thoughts 
of sin and its forgiveness, thoughts of God and of Christ 
shut out the poor glories of this world — he felt for other 
pillars, for other supports than the creature could give. 
"Thy rod," said he, "thy rod, thy staff, that is what IiuaiUJ^ 
"Heavenly Father, forgive my sins, and receive me to thy- 
self, through Jesus Christ." Whether this was the utterance 
of a real faith, it is not for me to say. But what a testimony 
this to the vanity of mere temporal distinctions ! It tells us 
that at the feet of Christ the wise man must forget his wis- 
dom, and the mighty man his strength. It tells us that 
unless united by faith to the Son of God, the largest honors 
will be a worthless possession, if not a wreath of torture. 
It tells us that there is nothing in the grandest achieve- 
ments of earth, from which the soul vvfll not gladly turn in 
a dying hour, to find anchorage in the simple but sublime 
truths of Christianity. It tells us that while the Gospel is 
not too high for the humblest capacity, it is not too simple 
for the loftiest intellect ; nay, that all men must become as 
little children if they would partake of its salvation. It tells 
us, in fine, that the noblest endowments, the highest attain- 
ments, and the most dazzling fame, must be laid at the 
feet of Jesus, as the homage due to his Infinite Majesty on 
whose head are many crowns, and at whose feet angels 
.and archangels veil their resplendent gloi'ies. 

And will men, with so impressive an example before 
them, still plunge on in the race of ambition ? Will they 
covet earthly honor just as eagerly, and sacrifice as much 
to gain it? If the peerless renown of a Webster was noth- 
ing to the departing soul, compared with an interest in 
Jesus, then of what so great worth is that " bubble repu- 
tation" which common men are likely to win ? Why should 



24 

we purchase it with the loss of one moment's peace of con- 
science, or with the neglect of a single duty 7 Posthumous 
fame, although the noblest of earthly distinctions, and ap- 
pealing to a more refined ambition than any other, is after 
all, but a poor boon for which to live. He who is actuated 
by no higher object than this, is doomed to a miserable 
disappointment. Look at the most ilkistrious names of 
history — they live, indeed, and will live, as long as mankind 
are capable of admiring genius, or revering moral excel- 
lence — but how little, nevertheless, are their memories pres- 
ent to the ordinary consciousness of mortals ! How little 
do the names of Homer, Demosthenes and Cicero mingle 
with the daily experience of the present age ! Even Solo- 
mon with "all his glory,'* with all the advantage of a promi- 
nent place in that inspired volume which millions are read- 
ing every day, with all the practical inlluence which his 
wise sayings are exerting on the principles and conduct 
of men, how little does the memory of his yet unrivaled 
greatness enter intt) the thoughts of our modern world ! 
Could he have forseen how his matchless fame, which like 
a sun filled his own age with its lustre, would grow less 
and less as centuries rolled away, until it twinkled a little 
star on the firmament — could he have known how dimlv 
its feeble light, struggling through the mists of intervening 
sjenerations, would fall at last on the vision of that world 
which once was dazzled with his splendor, — surely he 
would have exclaimed with tenfold emphasis, "Vanity of 
vanities, all is vanity!" And such is the phantom which 
tempts and deludes the men of the earth. Each new can- 
didate hopes to be an exception to that Ibrgetfulness which 
has overtaken his predecessors, yet only furnishes a new 
illustration of its certainty and universality. 

Nevertheless, though the worldling realizes nothing from 
this quarter but vanity anil vexation of spirit, there is a 
posthumous fame which is no phantom — a fame that is 
something more than a cold and barren fact, yielding to its 



25 

possessor no comfort or benefit, eliciting from men the 
praises of heartless admiration, and not the warm tribute of 
tender affection — it is the fame which belono;s to goodness. 
" The righteous," we are told, " shall be had in everlasting 
remembrance." "They that be wise shall shine as the 
firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as 
the stars forever and ever." Their names will be enshrined 
in the memory of God, in the love of God, and in the affec- 
tions of the holy. " Because I live," said Christ, " ye shall 
live also." And as long as he lives, they live — as he dieth 
no more, so neither will they. For in him they live and 
move and have their being. There are, strictly speaking, 
no deathless names but those which are written in the 
Lamb's Book of Life. 

Posthumous fame is too often indentified with this world, 
with the fading memories and empty praises of dying men. 
But it becomes us to remember that this transcient scene 
can last but a little longer — a few more centuries at most, 
and the end will come, when the " cloud-capt towers, the 
gorgeous palaces, the great globe itself" shall be whelmed 
in the ruin of an all-consuming conflagration. And we are 
also to reflect that 

" Beyond this vale of tears 
There is a hfe above ; 
Unmeasured by the fliglit of years, 
And all that lii^ is love." 

There, my hearers, in that eternal abode, is the grand 
theater for an enduring fame. Of what account is a few 
years' remembrance on earth, when earth itself is shortly to 
be destroyed? The only important question is, shall we 
have a remembrance, an " everlasting remembrance," in 
that world where all the righteous, and the righteous only, 
will be gathered — the seat of God's immediate presence 
— the scene of his final triumphs — the perfected results 
of his mediatorial government — a world whose holiness and 

4 



26 

happiness are secure from invasion or change, whose glories 
never fade, whose duration never ends. 

When the portals of death opened to receive our illus- 
trious statesman, as his great soul passed solitary and 
alone within the veil, saw ye nothing through the uplifted 
gates, of that vast and solemn world which stretches inim- 
itably beyond ? a woild to which our own is but a speck 
on the fields of immensity? Caught ye no glimpse of the 
countless myriads who people it? And rose there not on 
your sight the vision of that infinite majesty which reigns 
over those boundless regions? And do not the things of 
earth shrink to insignificance before the overshadowing 
greatness of that scene? Does it not open to us a sphere 
of existence to which the whole duration of this world is 
but a point of time? Could we certainly know that he 
whose death we mourn entered that mighty workl in the 
strength of a living faith, leaning as a little child on his 
Saviour, and carrying with him the "power of an endless 
life," then would we award to him in that last hour the 
achievement of a victory transcending all his earthly tri- 
umphs, and the winning of a glory out-dazzling all his 
intellectual honors ; a victory to which there is no reaction ; 
a glory to which there is no waning or ending. 

Yes, my hearers, one duty performed, one sin slain, one 
forward step on the path of holiness, one throb of repent- 
ance, one act of faith, is worth more to the soul, will tell 
more on its eternal future," than the proudest deeds ever 
celebrated by the trump of fame. "Seekest thou great 
things for thyself? seek them not." If God has endowed 
you with noble gifts, cultivate them to the utmost for his 
service ; if he has called you to distinguished honors, lay 
them cheerfully at the foot of the cross, and "be clothed 
with humility." Live for holiness, for usefulness, for Christ, 
for eternity, and you shall be "had in everlasting remem- 
brance" — nay, when these heavens are no more, you shall 
shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of your Father. 



27 

We have looked for the last time on one of the greatest 
of the sons of men ; and our hearts are saddened with 
the thought that we never shall see his superior or his 
equal again. But who that knew him will not have more 
exalted ideas of the capacities of the human mind for 
growth under more genial skies? From such exhibitions 
of mental stature, what grand conceptions do we gather 
respecting the developments to be realized in heaven ! If, 
on this little planet, among these ruins of sin, and under 
this burden of flesh, there may be developed an intellectual 
growth so prodigious, then what may we not anticipate in 
the progress of regenerated mind, when, on the boundless 
fields of Paradise, escaped from the enslavement of sin, 
and from the drag of a mortal frame, the soul girds herself 
for an eternal race ! Elastic with the energies of a spiritual 
body that never knows fatigue or asks for rest ; impelled 
by the yearnings of a holy nature ; attracted by the un- 
veiled glories of a present God ; by union with Christ, 
sharing his almighty power; no steps to be lost, no eiForts 
to be wasted by misdirection ; every forward move to be 
rewarded with immediate success and with a new thrill of 
happiness ; and this to go on forever, unchecked, undimin- 
ished, ever-increasing — who can tell how great the hu- 
man mind may become in the progress of such a career? 
In the onward course of that sublime march, the entire 
heavenly host advancing in one solid phalanx, every foot 
moving to the cadence of celestial music, the rear rank 
will surely overtake each position successively occupied by 
the van. *Thc feeblest among them will soon be as 
David.' The infant that enters heaven to-day, will in due 
time outgrow the most angelic intellect that now leads the 
glorified host. The time may come when that spark of 
intelligence may know more, may reach a loftier altitude, 
and describe a vaster orbit, than can now be aflirmed of 
the whole multitude of ransomed saints. But where then, 
will be the advanced guard ? the patriarchs and aposdes ? 



28 

What eve can measure them ? what imasfination can con- 
ceive of their attainments in intellectual and moral great- 
ness? Truly, of all the creatures God has made on earth, 
there is nothing so grand, so august, so capacious of amaz- 
ing growth in all the elements of power and goodness, as 
the human mind! Do we realize that to each one of us 
this exalted gift is committed ? O let us save it for Christ, 
for heaven, for the unfolding glories of an endless life! 

But we may not stop here. We ascend to a still higher 
eminence. Above the loftiest human intelligence; above 
those stupendous works of God, in the study of which 
that intelligence has won its proudest triumphs ; above the 
head w-aters of time and creation, ere a star flittered on 
the firmament, or an angel sung before the throne, we see 
one infinite, eternal Mind, purposing and planning all this 
wondrous system ! That mind is the mi.\d of Christ ! 
Before it all other intelligences pale their fires. And were 
its mysterious creations made level to our comprehension, 
itself would remain, the sublimest mystery of all ; exalted 
in unapproachable grandeur above the most adventurous 
flight of finite powers. Here then, ye lovers of intellect, 
ye worshipers of genius, let man be fo?-gotten, and let all 
hearts be filled to adoration with the presence and the 
glory of this stupendous Being. At His feet let earth and 
heaven, the church militant and triumphant, men, angels 
and archangels cast their honors and their crowns, and 
from bended knees, with glowing hearts, and eloquent lips, 
exalt Him first, Him last, and Him forever! 



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